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"This isn't something I can repay. Unless you want me to... to try."
Chloe sputtered slightly, a sound that was half-choke, half-gasp escaped her mouth. "Wha... I... You..." She let out a nervous laugh and stepped back, dislodging his hands. "Clark, I only just... I mean, that was just to help you out."
He stepped forward. "Yeah. But I didn't think about if you needed... help, maybe."
"Me? I..." He hands fluttered for a moment before she jammed them into her pockets. "I don't really need that kind of help. It's... It's different, me doing it for you. If you did it, that would be... different," she finished on a shaky note.
"Why?" He took another step.
Because if I give you an orgasm, you just walk away with an orgasm. If you give me one, I'll never walk away at all. But she couldn't say that. Not now. Not when it looked like they might live through this. Not when she knew Lana was waiting for him. She wasn't blind. She knew what was coming and she refused to get in any deeper. She'd only just accepted that she was his friend and that was all. She wasn't about to throw a year of hard work in the toilet. She stiffened, putting on a smile. "Thanks for the offer, Clark, but I really don't need that kind of help. I mean, really." She laughed slightly.
His brows drew together. "But this morning... I thought you felt..."
"Clark, I just took a few minutes to help you out because you had morning wood. I personally don't see it as any different from me massaging a knot in your neck. I just relieved the pressure so we could get down to business. I don't need you to return the favor because... Well, that's just it. I really don't. I'm good." She kept her smile fixed.
"Oh. Okay." He stared at the ground, then moved back to the log.
She unscrewed her smile and exhaled, relieved yet kicking herself. She did it again. She squandered the moment. It seemed the only way she could ever act on her feelings for Clark was when there was no tomorrow. And maybe that was best. Their tomorrow might have rescue and home and Lana. She couldn't...
"Wait just a second," he said, shooting up again.
She jumped slightly, not sure whether to paste her smile back on or look mildly disinterested.
He took two steps toward her. "Chloe, I may not have much direct experience with... this kind of stuff. But I have picked up the odd magazine and video. You can't tell me you weren't..."
She looked down. "Clark, let's let it go and keep moving. Please."
"No. Why can't you admit it?" He took another step.
Her eyes widened as they fixed on the ground at his feet. "Clark?"
"I may have had a more visible reaction..."
"Clark, your pa..."
"But I felt you. You were..."
She pointed. "Pants on fire."
"No. Yours are. And that's real mature, Chloe." He threw his hands up. "We're eighteen now. Can't we have a grown-up conversat..."
"Clark," she cut in, yelling now. "Your pants are on fire!"
"What?" He looked down, then quickly took his foot away from the fire. "Oh, God!" He shook his leg frantically. "We don't have any water. What..."
She ran at him, toppling him to the snow, smothering his leg in it. She leaned over him, shaking off the scare for a second before brushing the snow off his leg. She hurriedly shoved up his pant leg. "It's okay," she panted. "I think your hair got singed, but the jeans took the worst of it." She pulled them down again. There were charred holes up and down the side. She turned to face him. He was leaning up on his elbows and strangely silent for a guy who wouldn't let her speak a moment ago and she wondered if she'd knocked the wind out of him. "Clark? Are you okay?"
He gave a jerky nod, then looked down and she noticed their position. She was between his legs and her other hand was damned near his fly. "You might want to move that," he said roughly. "I don't think I can accept any more help."
She gingerly pulled it away and scooted back, hugging her knees and staring at him as he sat up.
He glanced at her once before, brushing at his leg. "Thank you, by the way, for saving most of my pants." He frowned, picking at the charred bits as the silence grew between them. "Chloe, I don't know what to make of this morning. Maybe... Maybe you're right. I don't know. Maybe we shouldn't make anything of it. You want me to let it go. So I'll just let it go."
She felt strangely sad. She didn't want to let it go. Not really. She just felt she should, even that she had to. But would she look back on this as another squandered moment? Probably. So maybe she should make it count. But not like this morning. Not as some way to service her libido and damn the consequences. She'd make this count the right way.
"I'll admit it," she said softly. "I didn't touch you as some selfless gesture of friendship. I touched you because I... I couldn't not touch you. I didn't think we'd get through this and I wanted, just once, to touch you in every way I know I shouldn't. But now there is a tomorrow. The world isn't ending and I know what that means for us. It means we go home and everything will be as it was." She took a deep breath. "Clark, it's no secret that I have trouble keeping my feelings for you in the friend box. But after a couple days making a fool of myself on, for lack of a better word, meteorade, I spent all year trying to accept that friendship is all there will ever be between us. And that's a lot of work to be thrown away by blurring the boundaries now." She looked up finally. He was staring back, but silent. "Maybe things got a little hazy back there, but I don't think we should let it happen again. One of us will end up hurt." She smiled sadly. "And experience has taught me who."
She stood, brushing the snow off her bottom. "And now my butt's soaked." She gave a laugh. "Next time I bare my soul, remind me to do it standing."
He stood as well, brows drawn together and lips parted in the classic Clark Kent look of guilt and confusion.
"Clark, I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. What happened back there was my call. I just need you to understand why I want you to let it go." She turned and kicked some snow on what was left of their fire, then squared her shoulders. "We should keep moving south."
******************
Clark didn't know what to think. He wasn't sure he was supposed to be thinking about this at all. He should be letting it go.
That didn't mean he was.
Clark, it's no secret that I have trouble keeping my feelings for you in the friend box.
No. Not a secret. Chloe's feelings were something that always hung over their friendship. Like a pendulum. He tried to say they weren't there, but that pendulum sometimes dropped just a little, reminding him that he'd better watch it. And not just because of her. But because of him. Because sometimes he bathed in those moments when she held his stare. Sometimes he wondered what she was seeing. And sometimes that stare made him wonder if there could be more to them.
But there was always Lana. He'd always wanted Lana. Going back to the sandbox, Lana was always... He couldn't think of a word for her. She was just so... Lana.
Chloe, he had words for. She was sometimes maddening, always looking at him so shrewdly, as if she saw right through him and his flimsy excuses and made up stories. She was sometimes downright scary, the leaps she made that, to most people would seem crazy. He'd often act like they were, though as someone who lived a life that was defined by strange, he always thought she might be right. And she usually was. He was always terrified she'd be right about him one day. That she'd dig just a little too deep and expose him like every other freak in town. It added another layer of tension to a friendship that always was like walking a tightrope.
He groaned inwardly. Pendulum. Tightrope. Pick a metaphor.
But she knew. She'd known for some time and never exposed him. It changed things.
To me, you're more than just a hero. You're a super hero.
Just two sentences and he no longer feared her quest for truth. Just twelve words and they were all he needed to hear. They told him that she didn't blame him. They told him that she'd never expose him. Even now that there was nothing to expose, he still felt this comfort in her words.
Chloe had a way with words. She always had.
I touched you because I... I couldn't not touch you. I didn't think we'd get through this and I wanted, just once, to touch you in every way I know I shouldn't.
God, did she.
And there was the other side of that tightrope... pendulum... whatever.
He was more confused then ever because somewhere in the middle of all this, she'd become his best friend. Somewhere between being on the trail of whatever misguided mutant was terrorizing the town and chatting in the Torch Office at sunset, she'd become someone who mattered too much. He remembered when Lionel took over his body. How it hurt that she was so cold to him for a week. How his day had changed without her in it. And now that she knew, now that he knew she knew and that she accepted him no matter what...
Did he want to throw that away because he'd never wanted to touch anyone back so badly in his life?
He stopped, eyes widening. Backing up until he hit something. One hands groped behind him, feeling rough bark as he heard a dull thunk. A tree. He leaned back against it. In his life?
Was that true? That couldn't be true. Despite his previous state as an alien, he was much like any guy. Girls and what could be done to them and with them pretty much blinked in and out of his mind like a dirty flash card. But he had values. He had a mom and a dad that, through some very awkward lectures, had drummed those values into his head. With words like maturity, responsibility, and respect for women echoing in his mind, he was always able to reign it in and do the right thing. Which was usually nothing at all.
So why was it so much harder right now? This was Chloe. Why couldn't he keep his eyes off her slightly wet bottom, which was really sort of rounded. As far as butts went, he'd never exactly thought about his preference before. But rounded was nice. Her pants weren't exactly tight, but they hugged her just underneath and he wondered what a handful of her would feel like... She was turning around. He tensed before his body sort of sagged against the tree and his eyes settled on her front. That was okay, too. Her jacket only buttoned just below her breasts and he'd be a liar if he said he hadn't thought about a preference for breasts. But it was mostly that they had to exist. Small ones, big ones... Being able to look through the paper bags and even pages of the Hustlers and Playboys behind the convenience store counter had shown him his share. But hers were the first he'd seen up close. And he didn't need X-ray vision to know they were somewhere just in between. Not too big. Not too small. Just right. Just enough to fill his hands as he gripped her from behind, pulled her back against him, ground himself into that round....
"Clark?" He blanched, pulling his eyes up to her face. She was in front of him now. When did that happen? Maybe somewhere between ogling her breasts and having dirty thoughts of tossing her up against the very tree he was trying to disappear into."What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." He shook himself and tried to give her a reassuring smile. He wasn't sure he'd succeeded as her brows drew together and she bent down. he nearly thought this was some extension of his dirty meanderings until she straightened, hefting the tied blanket over her shoulder.
"Maybe you're tired. I can take this for a bit." She tossed the lantern base into his hand and he grabbed it on the second try.
"Okay. I'm fine."
That didn't mean he was.
Clark, it's no secret that I have trouble keeping my feelings for you in the friend box.
No. Not a secret. Chloe's feelings were something that always hung over their friendship. Like a pendulum. He tried to say they weren't there, but that pendulum sometimes dropped just a little, reminding him that he'd better watch it. And not just because of her. But because of him. Because sometimes he bathed in those moments when she held his stare. Sometimes he wondered what she was seeing. And sometimes that stare made him wonder if there could be more to them.
But there was always Lana. He'd always wanted Lana. Going back to the sandbox, Lana was always... He couldn't think of a word for her. She was just so... Lana.
Chloe, he had words for. She was sometimes maddening, always looking at him so shrewdly, as if she saw right through him and his flimsy excuses and made up stories. She was sometimes downright scary, the leaps she made that, to most people would seem crazy. He'd often act like they were, though as someone who lived a life that was defined by strange, he always thought she might be right. And she usually was. He was always terrified she'd be right about him one day. That she'd dig just a little too deep and expose him like every other freak in town. It added another layer of tension to a friendship that always was like walking a tightrope.
He groaned inwardly. Pendulum. Tightrope. Pick a metaphor.
But she knew. She'd known for some time and never exposed him. It changed things.
To me, you're more than just a hero. You're a super hero.
Just two sentences and he no longer feared her quest for truth. Just twelve words and they were all he needed to hear. They told him that she didn't blame him. They told him that she'd never expose him. Even now that there was nothing to expose, he still felt this comfort in her words.
Chloe had a way with words. She always had.
I touched you because I... I couldn't not touch you. I didn't think we'd get through this and I wanted, just once, to touch you in every way I know I shouldn't.
God, did she.
And there was the other side of that tightrope... pendulum... whatever.
He was more confused then ever because somewhere in the middle of all this, she'd become his best friend. Somewhere between being on the trail of whatever misguided mutant was terrorizing the town and chatting in the Torch Office at sunset, she'd become someone who mattered too much. He remembered when Lionel took over his body. How it hurt that she was so cold to him for a week. How his day had changed without her in it. And now that she knew, now that he knew she knew and that she accepted him no matter what...
Did he want to throw that away because he'd never wanted to touch anyone back so badly in his life?
He stopped, eyes widening. Backing up until he hit something. One hands groped behind him, feeling rough bark as he heard a dull thunk. A tree. He leaned back against it. In his life?
Was that true? That couldn't be true. Despite his previous state as an alien, he was much like any guy. Girls and what could be done to them and with them pretty much blinked in and out of his mind like a dirty flash card. But he had values. He had a mom and a dad that, through some very awkward lectures, had drummed those values into his head. With words like maturity, responsibility, and respect for women echoing in his mind, he was always able to reign it in and do the right thing. Which was usually nothing at all.
So why was it so much harder right now? This was Chloe. Why couldn't he keep his eyes off her slightly wet bottom, which was really sort of rounded. As far as butts went, he'd never exactly thought about his preference before. But rounded was nice. Her pants weren't exactly tight, but they hugged her just underneath and he wondered what a handful of her would feel like... She was turning around. He tensed before his body sort of sagged against the tree and his eyes settled on her front. That was okay, too. Her jacket only buttoned just below her breasts and he'd be a liar if he said he hadn't thought about a preference for breasts. But it was mostly that they had to exist. Small ones, big ones... Being able to look through the paper bags and even pages of the Hustlers and Playboys behind the convenience store counter had shown him his share. But hers were the first he'd seen up close. And he didn't need X-ray vision to know they were somewhere just in between. Not too big. Not too small. Just right. Just enough to fill his hands as he gripped her from behind, pulled her back against him, ground himself into that round....
"Clark?" He blanched, pulling his eyes up to her face. She was in front of him now. When did that happen? Maybe somewhere between ogling her breasts and having dirty thoughts of tossing her up against the very tree he was trying to disappear into."What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." He shook himself and tried to give her a reassuring smile. He wasn't sure he'd succeeded as her brows drew together and she bent down. he nearly thought this was some extension of his dirty meanderings until she straightened, hefting the tied blanket over her shoulder.
"Maybe you're tired. I can take this for a bit." She tossed the lantern base into his hand and he grabbed it on the second try.
"Okay. I'm fine."
She nodded and turned again.
"Nothing's wrong," he called to her back.
And that was the worst part. He could tell himself it was wrong all he wanted, but it didn't feel wrong. It should feel wrong, really wrong, fantasizing about her, remembering everything she wanted him to drop. But nothing about that moment felt wrong. Her hand on him, her breath on his neck, then her mouth, then her teeth... Then it was all bliss and bursting stars. The only thing that felt wrong was when she moved away, tossing his clothes at him and ignoring him.
He clutched the cold glass and moved along behind her. Maybe it was just because it was the furthest he'd ever got. He'd never exactly had an assisted orgasm. Maybe he was blinded by hormones. Maybe he needed to cool off. He stopped and stared at the snow piled slightly higher at the base of a tree, tempted to shove some of it down his pants.
"Clark?" He looked up. She was moving back to him again. "Clark, I don't want to lose you."
He took a deep breath. "I don't want to lose you, either," he said, thinking she had a point. He'd only just found her, in a way. He now knew what kind of person she really was. Not just some cold truth-seeker, bent on exposing the weird and unexplained. She was a loyal friend. "I can't lose you." I have to stop this!
She tilted her head. "Good. Then we're agreed. Neither of us want to wander the forest alone. So... Look I know you're tired. I know all this is harder when you haven't felt the cold before. But you need to keep up."
He shook himself, feeling the cold again and finally getting what she was talking about. He nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry. I'll keep up." He took the knapsack from her hands and noted the shaking of them. He resolved to stop this once for all. There were more important things to focus on. He looked up. "It's getting darker. We probably can't even stop to eat now. We need to get to shelter before sunset."
And that was the worst part. He could tell himself it was wrong all he wanted, but it didn't feel wrong. It should feel wrong, really wrong, fantasizing about her, remembering everything she wanted him to drop. But nothing about that moment felt wrong. Her hand on him, her breath on his neck, then her mouth, then her teeth... Then it was all bliss and bursting stars. The only thing that felt wrong was when she moved away, tossing his clothes at him and ignoring him.
He clutched the cold glass and moved along behind her. Maybe it was just because it was the furthest he'd ever got. He'd never exactly had an assisted orgasm. Maybe he was blinded by hormones. Maybe he needed to cool off. He stopped and stared at the snow piled slightly higher at the base of a tree, tempted to shove some of it down his pants.
"Clark?" He looked up. She was moving back to him again. "Clark, I don't want to lose you."
He took a deep breath. "I don't want to lose you, either," he said, thinking she had a point. He'd only just found her, in a way. He now knew what kind of person she really was. Not just some cold truth-seeker, bent on exposing the weird and unexplained. She was a loyal friend. "I can't lose you." I have to stop this!
She tilted her head. "Good. Then we're agreed. Neither of us want to wander the forest alone. So... Look I know you're tired. I know all this is harder when you haven't felt the cold before. But you need to keep up."
He shook himself, feeling the cold again and finally getting what she was talking about. He nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry. I'll keep up." He took the knapsack from her hands and noted the shaking of them. He resolved to stop this once for all. There were more important things to focus on. He looked up. "It's getting darker. We probably can't even stop to eat now. We need to get to shelter before sunset."
1 comment:
HAHAHA the pants on fire had me rolling! Very amused by this chapter. You had me laughing and then sad when Chloe kind of fessed up but she knows she's always the one that gets hurt.
Really enjoyed Clark starting to take notice of her and deciding things were 'ok' LOL! So while he's been trying to keep all his dirty thoughts at bay, what has Chloe been thinking?
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